


Beyond the Line of Duty

by OwlosaurusRex



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Eye Trauma, Historical Inaccuracy, I did some research but nothing too extensive, I'll add more when necessary, M/M, Military Inaccuracies, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Slow Burn, This takes place AFTER WWII for the most part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlosaurusRex/pseuds/OwlosaurusRex
Summary: Gabriel Reyes returns to L.A. a scarred veteran haunted by what he had seen and done during the second world war. Driven by the need for closure, he travels across the country in search of a man he can only hope to be alive; a friend and fellow soldier who occupied his thoughts more than he should. Little did Gabriel know that his long-awaited reunion would open the door to something much more complicated and dangerous than either man could have anticipated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This project has been in the works for a couple years now. I actually posted the first chapter of this on ao3 back in June of 2017 but quickly took it down because I wasn't sure about how I wanted to handle this story at the time. I've since decided to just post the damn thing lol which I should have done to begin with.  
> At any rate, I'm hoping to get back to this story! This is something me and my good friend Jiseru talked about a lot, and I hope that others will enjoy this au as much as we do~
> 
> Here's some art of the boys that Jiseru posted on twitter!  
> https://twitter.com/Jiseruuu/status/1070850086136094720

France, 1944

 

Mail was inconsistent and often unreliable. When it did arrive, it came in bulk and weeks later than expected. It was deposited in brief moments of stability and quiet--glimpses of safety. Gabriel didn't expect anything. He grew up learning that expectations could be harmful, especially when other people were involved, so when names were called, and packages dispersed, he didn't pay it much mind.

He took advantage of the slight reprieve and lit a cigarette; content to watch the others open letters and cry over photos. Their temporary barracks in a shaken town not far from the front offered little personal space, but close proximity was another thing Gabriel was familiar with even before he joined the military.

To his left huddled a group of three. He knew them by name and knew that whatever half-hearted smiles and dull jokes they offered each other were hollow at their core. They'd lost two friends in the latest assault--one of which had died slowly, painfully. His screams joined the chorus that haunted them all and made thoughts of home and peace seem ludicrous.

To his right sat Jack Morrison.

The blonde-haired blue-eyed golden boy was always the first to find a positive spin on things, the first to find hope in a situation and not through fluffy dreams but through careful thought and planning. Gabriel knew how to plan, how to scheme and organize--he'd excelled at tactical training, but to infuse such planning with honest _hope_ and a sense that all of this might actually be worth it in the end was something Jack managed far better than any of them. He was good with people. He cared, and it showed.  
Gabriel smoked slowly, savored what could be his last cigarette for all he knew, and shifted to stretch his legs out as best he could in the crowded room. From where he sat on the floor, sandwiched between Jack and the other soldiers, their backs against the wall, he had little room to move and wondered how the courier was managing to walk around. He watched the young man (no older than 20, Gabriel guessed) pick his way around the room, calling names as quickly as he could so as to pass over those that didn’t--and wouldn’t--answer. Their absences were noticeable despite the man's care, but only made each response sound all the more satisfying.  
"Morrison, Jack?"  
"Here."

Gabriel leaned his head back against the wall and gave Jack a sideways glance. He sounded just as weary as the rest of them, his deep voice grown thin and ragged like his uniform, yet his thankful smile still held more honest gratitude than Gabriel had ever expected to see in such a place.

“Looks like quite the backlog, Sergeant,” the courier said, stepping over Gabriel’s legs as he dropped a heavy bundle of letters in Jack’s lap. The parcel was tied with twine and worn at the edges; the envelopes stained in places but otherwise intact.

“Must be pretty popular back home, huh?” someone called from farther down the wall, making Jack snort as he cut the cord and somehow managed to keep the letters from spilling onto the floor.

“Course he is, have you seen him?” Gabriel couldn’t help but chime in. “I bet he’s got all the girls in Iowa waiting for him.”

“Indiana,” Jack muttered absently.

“Right, whatever, same thing,” Gabriel said and smiled a little when he won a chuckle. Jack shook his head but didn't offer any further comment, too busy slicing open envelopes with a poorly contained sense of urgency. They were from family, Gabriel figured, offering support and reassurances and all that. It was the kind of morale boost Jack needed, and Gabriel was glad it came when it did. They were all starting to wear down a little.

“Reyes, Gabriel.”

Gabriel didn't catch his name when it was called, too busy watching Jack unfold his latest letter.

“Gabe.”

“Hm?”

“That’s you.”

“What?”

Jack sighed and had to wave to catch the courier’s attention as he skipped over Gabriel and went on. “Reyes is here.”

Gabriel frowned when he realized that the small stack of brown envelopes being thrust at him was his and took them rather reluctantly. He stared at his name and rank scrawled on the top letter’s surface and recognized his brother’s handwriting. He wasn't sure he wanted to open them.

Turning them over in his hands, Gabriel returned his attention to Jack who had managed to skim two letters and was moving on to a third. Gabriel had seen him open mail before and knew that most of the packages or letters were from the Morrison clan--his mother or siblings sending him their love or whatever else--and had since come to recognize the old-fashioned scrawl of Jack’s mother as opposed to the simpler script of the younger Morrisons. The letter Jack had opened last was something unexpected. Even the paper was different--a frilly stationary marked by an equally frilly message that suggested someone new.

“You sure you don’t have girls waiting for you?” Gabriel asked and stubbed out his cigarette on the floor before leaning over to get a closer look at the letter.

“Not the kind _you’re_ suggesting.”

“And what kind would that be?” Gabriel arched a brow and somehow managed to keep the grin off his face when Jack shot him a wry look.

“What?” Gabriel offered the most innocent expression he could muster, and Jack just rolled his eyes.

“Stop it. She’s a very respectable and kind woman,” Jack said as he returned his attention to the letter.

“Ah, so it _is_ a girl. You never mentioned having someone back home.” Gabriel leaned against Jack’s shoulder and reached out to snatch the letter from his hands.

“Gabe!” Jack tried to grab it back from him, but Gabriel held it up just out of reach.

“I bet she’s missing her…’Jackie?’ Oh, that’s cute--”

“Gabe, no--” Jack was climbing over Gabriel to reach for the letter and nearly toppled them both over in the process. “Give it back!”

The soldiers around them pulled away to avoid the ruckus, some laughing at their antics and others looking on with distaste.

“Oh, calm down, _Jackie_ , I just want to see who it’s from,” Gabriel said between bouts of laughter muffled by Jack’s hand pressed across his face. He huffed when Jack finally managed to snag the letter.

“Hah! Got it.”

Jack gave Gabriel a shove as he slid back into his spot beside him, only making him laugh all the louder.

“If you wanted to know who it’s from then you should have just asked. Christ.” Jack grumbled but Gabriel could see the smile pulling at his lips as he smoothed out the letter between his hands and cast Gabriel cautious sideways glances.

"Aww, Jackie, where’s the fun in that?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“No?” Gabriel arched a brow at him. “Too strange to hear it from me?”

“No--well, yes, it is strange, but mostly it’s just a nickname from when I was a kid.”

“You’ve outgrown it. That makes sense,” Gabriel said and nodded slowly. “Seems you two must be close, then, if she’s calling you that.”

Jack shrugged and carefully refolded the letter and returned it to its envelope. “We grew up together so it’s to be expected. It’s fine. Maryanne means well,” Jack said and stared down at his collection of letters and rumpled envelopes for a moment. “She’s worried.”

“I’m sure they all are. Can’t be helped.”

“Yeah.” Jack drawled off and Gabriel could see the homesickness creeping up on him as he stashed his letters away in his pack with the others.

“What about yours, though?” Jack asked and glanced at the letters in Gabriel’s lap.

“What about them?”

"Aren't you going to open them? Been awhile since you got anything."

Gabriel hesitated, frowning at the few brown envelopes he had received.

"Maybe later," he said without any conviction.

The truth was that he didn't want to. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted by thoughts of home and family.

"You sure?" Jack drawled, and he didn’t have to say it but ‘later’ might not be an option.

"Yeah. I have other things to worry about right now."

“That’s true.” Jack couldn't really argue with that, but Gabriel could feel him watching as he tucked the letters away inside of his coat.

"You know, they decided to alter our plans,” Jack said after a moment’s pause and shook his head.

Gabriel scoffed. "I heard.”

"Doesn't make much sense to me, but--"

"Sure, it does. You heard what Isaacs said, I'm 'influencing' you."

Gabriel scowled but managed to keep his voice down. "I can't believe they'd hold that against you, though. You haven't made any bad calls--at least nothing that could have been avoided."

Jack was quiet, and Gabriel glared around at the others in the company that he knew to be particularly “opinionated”.

"They're going to get people killed out there, Gabe," Jack said in a voice heavy with misplaced guilt.

"Yeah."

"I can't do anything about it. They won't reconsider."

Gabriel looked at him more fully, saw the distress written on his face, and felt a renewed surge of disgust for Isaacs, for their broken system, for the war. He took in a deep breath and shifted his weight to lean against Jack slightly, offering whatever comfort he could.

"We'll do what we can. No way around it," Gabriel said, having come to terms with his own powerlessness a long time ago. With this, as with most things in life, Gabriel would go along with what he was told but wouldn’t let himself die for the sake of following orders.

Jack was quiet for so long, with his eyes closed, that Gabriel thought he might've fallen asleep. He nudged him a little with his shoulder.

"But hey, how's the family?"

Jack lifted his head slowly and looked from Gabriel down to the bag in his lap and the neatly stored letters within.

"They're fine. It was Abigail's birthday last month and apparently, they got her a new bicycle. She seems pretty excited about it."

“A bicycle, huh?"

Jack nodded and smiled a little.

"Can't say I've ever ridden one myself," Gabriel said absently as he watched the weight of war start to lift from Jack’s shoulders--if only for just a few minutes.

"Really?" Their eyes met, and Gabriel was relieved to find some life in them, some amusement. "I'll have to teach you sometime, once we're out of here."

"Somehow I can't imagine myself riding a bicycle through a field of cows."

Jack snorted. "A field of cows, Gabe, really?"

"Isn't that what Idaho is?"

"It’s Indiana," Jack said with an exasperated and slightly over dramatic sigh.

“Sure, Indiana. Isn’t that what Indiana’s all about? Cows and corn and such?”

“Well, sort of,” Jack conceded and leaned his head back against the wall. He still looked tired but not nearly as _weary_ as before. Thoughts of the war, of what was happening, what they were doing, and all the responsibility resting on his shoulders, seemed to strangle Jack. It was overwhelming for all of them at times, but Gabriel worried that Jack hadn’t found an escape yet--that maybe he didn’t know how to cope. Bottling things up for later would only be dangerous for him.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Gabe, but you’re not going to see any cows around us. We live on an orchard. The nearest dairy farm is miles away.” Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Corn, though, well you can’t escape the corn. That’s _everywhere_.”

“Right, I remember you mentioning that. You grow apples or something?”

“Peaches, mostly but we have some other fruits too.”

“That seems fitting, somehow,” Gabriel said and nodded to himself.

“You think?” Jack arched a brow at him curiously and Gabriel shrugged.

Something about the thought of Jack surrounded by something as soft and sweet as peaches felt right. Jack, the town favorite with the bright smile and the personality that was almost _too_ nice, belonged in easy Indiana, not here.

“Somehow that doesn’t seem like a compliment,” Jack muttered and folded his arms over his chest, looking as though he might try to get some rest.

“It’s not an insult.”

“But not quite a compliment either. It’s fine. I know I’ve had it pretty easy but none of that really matters out here, does it?”

Gabriel hunkered down, too as he considered Jack’s words.

“No, I guess not.”

Jack only hummed in response and Gabriel could feel him lean against his shoulder as he started to drift.

Gabriel wouldn’t mind a little shuteye himself if he could manage it. He looked around at the others in various states of exhaustion-fueled sleep and figured a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. They were as safe as they were ever going to get and there was no telling when he would get another opportunity.

He had only closed his eyes for what felt like a second, maybe two, before the sound of heavy footfalls robbed him of his sleep.

“All right everyone,” a voice boomed in the crowded room, sending a shockwave through the soldiers and making Jack jump and reach for his gun instinctively.

“Gear up. We’re moving out.”

Jack tensed up beside him as the order reverberated throughout the room, and Gabriel could practically feel his anxiety. Their next assault wouldn’t be pretty, the First Sergeant had made sure of that when he decided to ignore Jack’s input, but they couldn’t let apprehension get in their way.

“Loosen up. You can’t get caught up here, okay?” Gabriel said and tapped Jack on the head. “We can do this.”

“Right. You’re right.” Jack took a deep breath and offered a grateful smile before gathering his equipment.

“Helmet,” Gabe said as a reminder, already fastening his on.

Jack hesitated. “I lost it.”

“What?” Gabriel stopped what he was doing and stared at Jack long and hard. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He unfastened his helmet even as Jack tried to rattle off an excuse. “You of all people can’t go out there without a helmet. Here.” He shoved his helmet against Jack’s chest and held it there.

“What is that supposed to mean? You think I’m going to take yours and, what, leave you to fend for yourself?” Jack laughed dryly. “Think again.”

Gabriel arched a brow at him challengingly. “Take it.”

“No.” Jack held his gaze with a stubborn calmness and sense of authority that suited him a little too well.

“Listen, I know you’re new to this sergeant thing, but you’re the commanding officer in our unit, we need you around if we want to make it out of this. Take the damn helmet.”

“But--”

“Please,” Gabriel said, his voice lowering as the soldiers around them started to rise to their feet. “Jack, take it. I’m sure I’ll find a spare somewhere.” He pushed the helmet harder against Jack’s chest. Jack hesitated and stared Gabriel in the eye before finally taking it.

“If I take this and you die out there, I’ll never forgive you,” he said, trying to make a joke of it though Gabriel could see Jack’s honest concerns as he glared at the helmet in his hands.

“I guess that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Gabriel shrugged as he gathered the rest of his things and heaved himself up to his feet with a grunt. He slung his bag over his shoulder before reaching out to help Jack up.

Jack took his hand without hesitation and Gabriel was relieved to see determination take the place of Jack’s anxieties. He was a strong leader, Gabriel knew it as well as the others, but even the strongest among them needed support.

Gabriel gave Jack a clap on the back as their six-man group gathered around him; tired and dirty but ready as ever to serve and survive. They looked to Jack for guidance and he didn’t disappoint.

“All right, boys. Let’s get moving.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel arrives in Indiana and finds that the cold is making his travels a lot more difficult than he had anticipated. Thankfully, he finds some unexpected help in his search for Martinsville, and Jack Morrison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((NOTICE: As of 6/5/19 I've made some edits to this chapter that are important to read before moving forward. I've added mention to a dog tag that will be significant in the coming chapters. Sorry for any confusion!))
> 
> This chapter has been a rough draft for a long time and I'm not sure I'm really satisfied with it yet but it'll do!  
> I decided to make Jack from a smaller city called Martinsville instead of Bloomington because I wanted to lol

United States, 1947

Indiana, corn country, comprised of a flat patchwork of fields and the occasional stand of trees that blurred with the speed of the train  passing them by. The sky was gray and unforgiving, spitting snow and rain at unexpected intervals and making Gabriel shiver just at the sight of it. This was a world away from the crowded bustle and polluted heat of Los Angeles and Gabriel wasn't sure he liked it.

Aside from the dropping temperatures and the intimidating openness, one of the biggest changes was the people.  Passing through the states on various trains and through city streets, it was possible to  _ feel _ the changes in ideology the farther north he went. Whatever open racism and hostility he had grown used to back home was replaced by a quieter variety--a sort of judging from afar that was often too polite to manifest in obvious ways, but still present enough for the railway staff to check his ID four times since they left the last station.

It was an inconvenience, to be sure, and agitating, to say the least, but nothing he couldn't handle. He’d survived the Second World War, for Christ’s sake, he could deal with a few rude white folks staring at him from across the aisle.

It was almost funny seeing their faces when he caught them in the act; making the old women chatter and look away as if they were  _ afraid _ of him or something. Well, maybe he was a little intimidating these days. It was probably the scars more than anything else, but who cared? His appearance didn't matter to him now, nor did the opinions of the stuck-up middle class that surrounded him in the train car. He’d paid good money for these tickets and while the staff had tried to strong-arm him into a different car, he wasn’t above using his veteran status to his advantage. They’d relented eventually, much to the white passengers’ chagrin, and while he was making himself comfortable in a standard seat, his new-found nihilism tried to rob his trip of its significance.

He cycled through all the reasons this was a bad idea, that it meant nothing and would do nothing for him, but the truth of the matter was that this trip might be one of the only things that  _ did _ matter anymore. An unannounced, hastily put together, nearly spur-of-the-moment trip cross-country in search of a man he wasn't sure was even alive...it was a stupid idea but one that had occupied his thoughts ever since he had arrived home from Europe.  He left for Indiana with nothing but a bag of clothes, his jacket, and one of Jack’s dog tags. It sat heavy in the breast pocket of his coat, weighing far more than the thin metal it was made of. 

It had been over a year now since he’d returned--over a year’s worth of time spent thinking, regretting, contemplating things he shouldn't. It had been difficult, and his family troubles hadn’t helped in the least, but at the forefront of his mind, ahead of all monetary and personal concerns, was one nagging question:  _ did he make it _ ?

Gabriel felt his anxiety peaking, fingers tapping on his leg, the rattle of the train on the tracks loud and daunting in his ears, and he went instinctively to his coat pocket,  seeking out that thin metal tag that’d followed him through battles and self-conflicts since the day Jack left him. It was warm between his fingers and the familiar weight in his palm was conflicting. Thoughts of Jack were always conflicting. There was joy from the little time they’d spent together, glimpses of something good in a world, but in the end, it was impossible to look past the glaring reminder that this one simple tag had become. 

Gabriel ran his thumb over the imprinted letters, traced out the ridges of Jack’s name, his serial number, and blood type, and thought about those last frantic moments together. He could practically hear Jack’s insistent voice still echoing in his ears and felt his stomach twist. Turning the tag over in his hand, Gabriel took a deep breath and went back to  patting down his  remaining pockets  until he found his cigarettes. 

The case was old and dented with the faded image of Mother Mary on its cover. It’d been a gift from his brother way back when they were still in school; a luxury item in its day, it had grown drab and stained. It’d lived through the war too, after all.

Popping the case open, Gabriel frowned at the contents, tipping it back and forth to let his two remaining cigarettes roll around inside. Maybe he’d been a little too indulgent on the last train, but something about the old, crowded car had put him on edge and now he was left with two cigarettes and a half pack of matches to his name. Not nearly enough, but he’d make do.

Taking one of the cigarettes from the case, Gabriel pressed it between his lips and cast a sideways glance at the aisle as a member of staff walked by  _ again _ . If they were trying to keep an eye on him they weren’t being very inconspicuous about it, but he did his best not to care.

Gabriel took his time lighting up, staring out the window and turning the  dog tag over in his hand  once again as he considered his plans. He was on a train to Indianapolis, but the Morrisons wouldn't be in the big city--of course it wouldn't be that easy. Jack had spoken enough about his family and the farm for him to know that his destination wouldn’t be a convenient one.

Martinsville.

It was a miracle Gabriel had remembered the city, but he did; Jack lived in Martinsville, Indiana. He remembered the city and the names of Jack’s siblings for the most part, and pieces of stories Jack had told during the restless nights on the front. Gabriel remembered a lot of things from those nights, and the days, too. He remembered too much.

Gabriel closed his eyes tight against the unwanted memories and finally lit his cigarette. The first hit of nicotine was usually the best, but he was disappointed to find that it felt muted now, dulled with over-use. The smoke hung about him like a pall. Gabriel returned to staring out at the Indiana landscape and his breath fogged the windowpane. Outside, the open fields and trees were gradually replaced by clusters of houses, small towns, and the promise of his destination. He wondered what Indianapolis would be like and nursed the idle hope that perhaps it was a little kinder than Los Angeles.

The train slowed, stopping twice at smaller stations before finally reaching the city proper, and Gabriel was relieved to find that the cold city was much quieter than L.A. The streets lacked the bustle and buses and glamour of Hollywood but still maintained the feeling of importance that came with the tall buildings and street cars. The city itself didn’t seem half bad at first sight; the people however, didn’t share the patience and tolerance Gabriel had witnessed in other towns. Three steps off the train and Gabriel could feel just how out of place a man like him was among the locals.

The train station was busy, a little crowded, and the glares and scowls cast in Gabriel’s direction as he slipped between groups of people were nearly hostile. So much for the northern charm he’d heard about. He knew it was foolish to expect others to be as open-minded as Jack had been, but he couldn’t help but assume that their tolerance might be a bit more substantial than back home.

If the train station was unpleasant, the city streets were just short of miserable. They looked clean and tidy, spacious in comparison to what Gabriel was used to, but the ice was something he hadn’t bargained for. His old boots had seen everything from mud and clay to gravel and broken glass, but apparently ice was too much for them.

He slipped and slid, nearly fell twice, and was reduced to shuffling along, his cap pulled down low and his collar flipped up to help fend off the occasional burst of wind. It was terrible. Who would ever want to live in a place like this? There was snow and ice and gusts that cut right through him and something about the cold cement and colder people passing him by made the initial appeal of the city wane rapidly. He needed to leave.

Skating past storefronts and tall brick buildings, Gabriel slowed as he reached a small corner shop. Its windows were plastered with advertisements promising cheap tobacco and various goods that suggested “Jimmy’s Place” might have what Gabriel was looking for.

The interior was cramped and suffocating; every possible inch lined with racks and shelves that left little room for the occupants to move around let alone breathe, and while Gabriel was glad to be out of the cold, the store clerk looked less than pleased to see him.

The man stood rigid behind the counter and openly glared as Gabriel took stock of the people inside. Aside from the graying shopkeeper, there were three young women huddled near the back of the store whispering among themselves, and it didn't take more than half a second for Gabriel to determine they were harmless; too busy with their shopping to care about a stranger in their midst. Hopefully the man wouldn’t start any trouble.

“There something you need?” The clerk leaned forward, both hands braced on the counter in a stance that might be intimidating if Gabriel could think of the aging man in such a way.

“I’m looking for the fastest way to Martinsville,” Gabriel said and met the man’s stare.

“Martinsville?”

“Yes. You know how I might get there?”

“Can't say that I do.” The clerk spoke quickly and with a bluntness that told Gabriel he wouldn't be much help.

Gabriel ignored the man as best he could and eyed the stands closest to the counter until he found what he was looking for. There were newspapers and postcards, stationery, one-cent candies, and a brand of cheap cigarettes he’d never heard of before, and--on a small display near the window--maps.

The Indianapolis maps meant little to him, but he was happy to find a state map among the bunch. He turned it over in his hands as he wandered back towards the counter and dug in his pocket for a few coins.

The clerk stared at him all the while, not even looking down when Gabriel placed the money on the counter.

“Looks like you’re about 5 cents short,” he said.

“What?” Gabriel had already started unfolding the map and stopped to look back at the shelf he’d found it on. “That’s not what it says here.”

“Yeah, well that’s what  _ I _ say.”

Gabriel frowned and held the man’s stare for a long moment. He wanted to argue, even considered taking his money and going elsewhere, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the trouble. He didn’t have time for that.

“Must be a misprint then. You might want to get that fixed,” Gabriel said and tossed an extra nickel on the counter.

The clerk didn’t look happy to have Gabriel telling him what to do and scowled when the coin slid across the countertop and fell to the floor at his feet.

“If you don't like it you can go somewhere else.”

Gabriel shrugged off the man’s response and returned his attention to the map while the clerk stooped down to pick up his nickel.

“Anything else?” He asked impatiently, and Gabriel shook his head before thinking better of it.

“Actually, yes. Which way is South from here?”

The clerk hesitated and for a second Gabriel thought he might not answer, but ultimately, he gestured at the window.

“Step out this door and turn left towards the post office. That’s about right.”

Gabriel looked out the window at the thin snowfall and cold city streets and refolded his map so that Indianapolis was the center of attention. It wasn’t until the clerk finished speaking and the room went silent that he realized that the women had quit talking at some point. He was sure they were staring, probably passing some kind of judgement, but he didn't look back at them, and, in fact, didn't look back at the store at all as he stepped out into the cold without another word.

The map flapped in the wind, making it all the more difficult for Gabriel to read the small print as he shuffled along the slick sidewalk. He stuck close to the buildings to avoid running into anyone in his distracted state and eventually stopped when he realized that Martinsville was proving more difficult to find than he had anticipated.

Just how small of a town was it anyway?

“Excuse me? Sir?”

Gabriel could hear a woman’s voice among the sounds of city transit but thought little of it until he noticed the patter of footsteps running up behind him. He flinched and jerked away instinctively, turning his back to the wall and staring at the wide-eyed girl in confusion. She looked startled by his sudden movements and took a half step back.

“Oh, um, excuse me,” she said.

Gabriel recognized her as one of the girls from the shop. She looked to be in her twenties with a head of wild dark curls and round, brown eyes that shone with an innocence Gabriel hadn't seen in years, maybe not since he was a small child himself. Her two companions stood some distance back and looked on with obvious uncertainty.

“Yes?”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

“What?” Gabriel frowned down at her. She spoke with an accent he didn’t quite recognize, and which made him lean in a little to catch what she said.

“Back in the shop, Mr. Felton he…”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes as he looked back at the store, connecting the dots easily enough.

“He lied,” Gabriel said. He should have assumed as much.

“Well, yes It seems that he did. South is this way here,” the woman pointed back the way he came, towards the train station.

“I see. Thank you, you’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

The girl smiled at him in response and Gabriel wasn't quite sure how to handle that.

“I thought it best to let you know before you got too far along.”

“Thank you,” he said again, a bit awkwardly.

The girl waved off his thanks and there was a tense moment where she just stared at him searchingly before speaking up again.

“You’re looking for Martinsville, I think you said?”

“Yes, I am.”

The woman simply nodded and hummed a little in response as she looked down at Gabriel’s jacket. It was marked with stains from combat and overuse, but the patches were what seemed to capture her attention. She looked as though she might say something, a question forming and fading away in a matter of seconds and leaving her smiling with an appearance of gratitude Gabriel couldn’t understand.

“Do you need help getting there?”

Gabriel just stared at her for a moment. He was a little confused and wary of her kindness despite how calm and harmless her and her companions appeared to be.

“Help?”

The woman nodded.

“My brother drives to Bloomington often, making a stop in Martinsville would not be a problem.”

“Thank you,” he said as he glanced back at the other women who continued to look on cautiously. “But I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“But you are not asking, I am offering,” the woman insisted with a smile despite Gabriel’s obvious uncertainties.

He sighed to himself and looked out at the frozen city dusted with snow that drifted over the streets with each sharp gust of wind. The offer was wildly generous and while he found little reason to suspect the young women had any ill intentions, he couldn’t help but hesitate.

“You were a soldier, weren’t you?”

Gabriel frowned at the sudden question.

“I was. Yes,” he said slowly, carefully, and narrowed his eyes when the girl met his stare again.

“Then please, let us help you. This is the least we can do.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yes, we do.” She said with a firmness Gabriel hadn’t expected. He could see determination in her eyes, determination and a now unbridled gratitude.

“Let us help you, it would be our pleasure,” she said and looked up at him expectantly. Suddenly the thought of trekking down snowy country roads without any idea of where he was heading with his hands growing numb in his pockets felt a little less plausible than before. He wouldn’t be getting another opportunity like this one. He’d be a fool to turn it down.

“All right,” Gabriel relented.

The woman practically beamed. “Thank you,” she said even though Gabriel should be thanking  _ her _ , instead.

She started to turn back towards her companions but stopped before offering her hand to Gabriel with a huff.

“I am sorry, I have been so rude, let me introduce myself. My name is Esther. Esther Berkovich.”

“Berkovich…”

The woman gave a nod and Gabriel glanced down at her hand before eventually offering his own in return.

“Gabriel Reyes.”

“Gabriel, it is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, smiling.

Gabriel felt the small shape of her hand in his; cushioned by a thick mitten yet with a strong and confident grip.

“I assure you,” he said with a small yet grateful smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> If you liked this and feel like supporting your friendly neighborhood Owl, I've got a tumblr with links to a bunch of my stuff here:  
> http://owlosaurusrex.tumblr.com/  
> I also have a twitter where I'm far more active these days:  
> https://twitter.com/OwlosaurusRex_
> 
> Thanks again~


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